Rain, mud, music... it must be Glyndebourne

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Forget Glastonbury, if you want real tales of hardship talk to the brave souls who attend opera festivals

Ah, Glastonbury! Yes, me too. Fed up with it. And the thing has hardly started. It will be at least a month before all those excitable columnists stop chattering about how brave they were to “rough it” — by camping in Somerset in midsummer.

Don’t they realise that we classical music fans endure as many hardships? Have they never been crushed in a rush for the ice creams at the Wigmore Hall? Or trapped between two opera critics, steaming from all orifices, on the coach back from Glyndebourne to Lewes after a bad show? Or drunk too much bubbly at Grange